Now What?
by E.A.Inspiration
Summary: DMHG: a certain blond and a brunette are in for a rude wakeup call to retrive their lives where they'll be thrown out of the magic world, attacked by muggles, and meet with cults, and almost drive each other crazy and along they find a way to eache other.


**Now What?**

Chapter One: A Day In The Life 

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes groggily, which made his head scream with pain. Glancing at the clock at his nightstand, he cursed, quite eloquently too.

You see he had three minutes to get to work.

And that as you must conclude wouldn't do at all. Three minutes for Draco Malfoy to dress is just out of the question. So deciding that it didn't make a difference much if he got a couple of more minutes of sleep, Draco turned back to rest on his right side to fall into blissful slumber, trying to ignore the sharp hangover that was throbbing. He knew it would take an _itsy bitsy _more than minutes. But-

Damn, I have got to stop doing that! Draco thought a frown etched over his face, as he stared at the sleeping woman next to him. 

Now, I'm sure if Ronald Weasley had heard the next string of curses that Draco whispered furiously he would've felt some competition. But Ronald Weasley wasn't anywhere around.

Weasley in my bedroom? Competition? Draco though incredulously, He scoffed at such thoughts, not knowing where they had come from, blaming the lack of sleep, the big hangover, and the sight of a complete stranger who was sprawled next to him in bed, by the looks of it naked. 

Draco dragged himself out of bed stepping into the elegant bathroom, picking up his wand on the way there (wondering what it was doing there). He lessened the intensity of his hangover by a simple spell. Getting in the shower, Draco felt his head clear considerably when the cold water hit his skin.

After about thirteen minutes Draco started dressing, taking his time, not in a real rush. Besides he had a reputation, and being smartly dressed didn't hurt. It was perfectly true that even if he put a potato sack on (a slight grimace etched our Slytherin's face at this thought) he would still look better than any bloke in the whole wizarding world. So imaging what effect he had when he dressed his ravishingly beautiful self in some nice top fashion clothes?

Yeah, I know, unbelievable.

Draco took a last look in the mirror, running his hand through his hair as a last touch to make sure it was sexily ruffled, and with a satisfactory nod he apparated to work with a _pop_.

_Malfoys do _not_ disappear with pops! _Draco thought indignantly._ Pops are not graceful!_

While these absurd thoughts ran through his mind, Draco found himself in the middle of a bustling corridor in the Ministry of Magic. He smiled smugly as he saw people running around him all to their own purpose; he didn't have to run about for a boss. No, he was in charge of himself. He could show up anytime, and not one person would dare make one comment about it. (And god he was wrong about that, wait till he reaches his office.)

Draco started walking, bumping into people, not looking back. He felt half asleep still and the hangover was left remaining effects, god, he should've taken a cup of coffee, and as these thoughts were running through his mind, he didn't notice a small figure he bumped into, knocking the person to the ground.

As he made his way down the crowded corridor to his office Draco shot some of the females a gorgeous white smile that made them swoon. 

"Lookin' good!"

"Hey, beautiful!"

"Morning!"

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy!"

"Hey, Mr. Malfoy!"

Returning these greetings with a confident nod, dazzling smile, mischievous wink, or a simple look, Draco made his way down the busy corridor. And all these seemed to have the same effect on the ladies, who were all a breath away from fainting, and on the gentlemen, who scowled at the back of our hero.

As soon as his office was in sight, his secretary also came into view. Fidgeting.

And fidgeting is _never _a good sign. And by the slight frown that Draco wore, he seemed to be aware of this fact. Not a concern of his though, he wasn't about to stop to inquire, she'll probably talk soon. Women. Always opening their mouths to spurt absolute disaster, and then they expected you to forgive them just because they can shed a couple of tears and whine easily.

Sparing the young woman a swift glance, he said, "Jackie, my morning coffee quick. Thanks, darling."

When Draco made a move of opening his office door, the so-called Jackie cried out, "I'm sorry sir! I really am, I didn't know-"

Draco turned around to face the agitated young woman, putting a hand up to silence her. Then he said, "Slow down, and explain."

She stared up at him nervously, and then looking away she cleared her throat saying. "It's, um, it's your mother, sir… Mrs. Mal-Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, she, she's in your office sir, she-"

"What?" 

The young woman jumped up at his sudden outcry. She resumed, her voice trembling now, "I'm sorry sir, but I couldn't stall her, like you always tell me, long enough-and-she-well, you know how insistent-"

Turning away from her, Draco opened the door of his office with a little more force than he had meant. But this was not exactly what you would call pleasant surprise…

And sure enough, to Draco's complete horror, there she was. Narcissa Malfoy. She was sitting at Draco's desk, surveying the room with critical eyes. Her elegant features turned up at everything around her with a clear message, that this wasn't fit to be an office for a Malfoy.

_As if anything's ever fit to be a Malfoy's, _Draco thought scornfully.

"Mother."

You see the sweet love that these two share? Such special words.

The beautiful woman looked around at her son, who was standing at the threshold of the spacious office, fixing him with a judgmental look. She surveyed her son for some time, her fair eyebrows raised as if there was something unacceptable in Draco's appearance, as usual. Then she turned back to surveying the room, as if she had spared her son enough time.

Such feelings!

"If I may ask, mother," Draco started, staring at his mother with heightening annoyance. It wasn't that he didn't love his mother, but she could be an absolute pain sometimes. "To what do I owe-"

"Spare us the drama, Draco." Not looking up from a small statue that she was examining, she said, "You should get a better office decor, really! And this?" she scoffed, holding an ordinary quill in her pale hands. "My son writes in this? The head of this department writes in this?"

Draco shook his head, looking away. He wasn't fine with his mother always invading his life like this. He was old enough to do what ever he wanted, live anyway he wanted, and god damn it, write in any damn quill he wanted!

"I don't do drama," Draco said, sitting in a leather armchair close by. "It appears to me that it's you who's here to do that."

Getting up from behind the desk, _Draco's _desk mind, Narcissa laughed softly, no humor in her laugh. She seemed to have lost her ability to smile or laugh or be happy genuinely since…what had happened three years ago. "Actually, I am here to make some dramatic decisions…don't retort with any witty answer you've got, please. I have no time to waste." Here she paused as if to make her point clear. "I dropped by at your house this morning, and I found a most wonderful surprise. _Again._ Let me express my pride in my responsible son!"

_Oh shit, not again! _Draco thought, knowing what was coming. Finding different naked women sleeping in his bed every time she showed up, Narcissa Malfoy had made it clear that she didn't like it. "Mother…"

"No, no, I must! Or my immense pride will make me do myself some harm. And you don't want to harm me Draco, do you? You just think that acting like an irresponsible lazy brat will make me feel so good!"

Here it was again. Draco sighed. "Mother…"

"I said let me finish!" The usual impassive pale face was contorted with rage as she cried these words at her son. Taking a breath, she said returning to her calm tone (or at least some one who didn't know her well would've thought she wasn't boiling with anger anymore, but Draco knew better), "Since you are _so _busy running all of this-" she raised his arms to make her point "-, and no, believe me no one would suspect that I had anything to do with it! I mean not showing up at meetings, coming as late as you want, going home any time, not showing up at all at times, and even when you are, doing nothing! But you are truly amazing! Amazing! Even though you appear to be doing nothing, you are still head of department, and all of your business is run so neatly, and you're still the big success in the newspapers and magazines! How do you do it, son? Just how? Because I am in such fascination at your abilities!"

Draco received his mother's glare, not opening his mouth to say anything, as he had been trying through out the last speech. There was no point really. He looked away from his her, feeling the familiar feeling of bitterness surface.

"Look at me, I need you to see my pride in you shine in my eyes!" she continued derisively when her son refused to meet her eyes. "Well, as I already make sure that everything is running so smoothly at work, in the family business, why not run the rest of you life? I'm sure you wouldn't mind, as you already have half of the wizarding population's women to try out, and a lot of the money that _I, _practically, make to spend!"

Draco watched his mother pour herself some drink with a flick of her wand, and down half of it. "And here's what I've decided: you_ will _be here every morning at eight in the morning sharp. If you are late, if only a minute, I will be told, and believe me, and I will do nothing to cover for you anymore. You are to take responsibilities of your actions. I've had enough of this, Draco, god damn it!"

She emptied her cup, and it refilled, and Draco was smart enough to know his mother was mad enough to spare being drunk in public.

"Then stop doing it," Draco said, looking down at his nails. He knew where the conversation was going. They had been having the same kind for almost three years now, ever since he'd been working, ever since he'd stopped giving a shit about anything. Anger and that sharp bitterness having an intense grip over him anytime his mother talked to him about _responsibility, duty, pride…_How could she speak like nothing that's happened mattered? Had she _forgotten _so quickly

"What was that?"

"Besides," Draco went on, giving his mother a meaningful look. "You were never there to look after me, before. Funny, I don't recall you being around when I was only sixteen years old, living in hell, trying to make sure that I paid for _his_ mistakes. Nor were you there to do anything when…it happened! No, you decided to act irresponsible and hid your self behind walls! Who was there when it happened? Who was there through all the trials? No, you're out of the picture… Memory is a queer thing, no mother?" Draco stared fixedly at the slim woman, all the anger that was buried surfacing, all the bitterness out again.

Her face lost all the color that had been in it, becoming a ghastly white. And Draco always took the satisfaction of knowing he could hit a nerve.

Draco continued, feeling like he was acting out an old scene over again, "Where were you then, huh? And just three years ago, you still remember that? Look me in the eye mother, look me in the eye to see the _pride _I have of all those times." Draco felt cold inside as he made a gesture of disgust at his mother who was holding the cup tightly, looking away her eyes fixed tightly on the thin air in front of her, her eyes icy and blank almost. "_Responsibility_! Try to remember!" he shouted at his frozen mother, as memories of those horrible times swarmed him making him feel so angry.

And I also add that Draco needs a bit of self-control, although he probably looks great as a raving lunatic.

Draco cursed, running a hand through his hair. "Don't you talk to me about pride and responsibility!" he spat, turning again to face the silent woman. "I was willing to give my life to make you _proud! _I was so fucking stupid, believing that I was so lucky to be doing what _you_ did, going down _your_ path! So don't try to tell me that you're looking after me now! You don't give a damn about me! You never did! Not me, not _him_, nobody but yourself and your precious-"

And then Narcissa slapped him, hard.

Draco was too stunned at the unexpected turn of events, to notice that she was shaking. The burning tingling in his cheekbone worked on him like a rude wakeup call, making him realize what he had been saying. _Had he lost all kind of self-control?_ He turned away, his voice gone suddenly as a sudden rush of sadness over swept him.

This was his mother! The only source of affection he had ever had, a person that he had always spoken gently to with the deepest respect…

This was probably why they didn't meet in person alone, anymore. Why someone else had to always there, to keep them both under check. Sure enough his mother did looking into every aspect of Draco's life, but she did it from home, behind walls. And that was probably a smart move considering what could happen.

This isn't supposed to happen any more. It's over, why cant you just let go? 

He registered his mother's footsteps. He heard her turn the doorknob. Draco thought she had gone out but then he heard her say her voice a little shaken, "You _will _do what I said. And we're having dinner at the _Libnany's_ this evening with the Parkinsons, and your expected. I expect since there should be no more time to lose that we finish the engagement business and make it official tonight. Be there."

And with that Draco heard the door close with a soft click. Draco let out a ragged breath, sinking in an armchair. He buried his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes.

He leaned back in the armchair, sinking into the cushiony softness, wanting to erase the last minutes from his head. But they kept repeating themselves in his head, making the intenseness of the knot in his stomach become sharper to handle.

How the hell had that happened? One second he was perfectly fine, making passes at females in the corridors and the second he was a raging lunatic!

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco opened his eyes looking at the hesitant figure that was standing at the door. He sat up slowly, trying to force his lips into a smile. "Hmm?"

She stepped in slowly. "I'm sorry to disturb, but um your coffee…" She put down a cup of steaming dark liquid, then stepped away quickly retreating to get out quickly.

Draco gazed at the coffee, a weird urge to laugh erupting inside of him. No need for it really, he was wide-awake now. You see, being slapped by your mother and having a good shouting session as a good morning did the job quite efficiently.

Leaning back into the armchair, Draco examined his desk his mind faraway in thought. Then his eyes stopping at a stack of newspapers and magazines, he tugged at the magazine with the frayed red cover in the middle. On the cover, he found his own image staring back at him, which had been describes as irresistible, with a look that had been described as _"the sexy, enchanting gaze that made women's heart flutter." _He flipped through the magazine, knowing it would stop in the place he wanted, from the many times he had spent looking at those pages. When he had reached the page, he let his eyes skim the paragraphs that described him and his _success. _

"…Draco Malfoy, the one and only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, the heir to the Malfoy immense fortune. But not only is he born with a golden spoon in his mouth, but he's not satisfied with it, he's out to make more! The 20 year-old has just gotten hold of the Head of the Magical Law Department at the Ministry of Magic! If he keeps up at this rate, we might have our youngest Minister ever! Not only is Mr. Malfoy a huge success in business, but a bigger one with the ladies. He's known to make women al lover the wizarding world weak in the knees with a simple smile. With such a magnificent physique, a good head on his shoulders, and enough gold to drench the wizarding world with, he's a great catch, ladies! But it seems that it might yet be too late, as some say that there is a serious relation between the young heir and a certain lady by the name of Pansy Parkinson.

"Oh, yes, they were sweethearts all through their years in Hogwarts, so it's only natural to assume that one day they would decide that marriage was the next move to make," a close friend states, with a confident smile.

It seems that Mr. Malfoy has made it farther than anyone would've ever expected (especially after the dirty business that followed the family after the end of the war with You–Know-Who). With a close bond with his supportive mother, and a bright career ahead of him, and a possibility of wedding bells in the near future, who wouldn't call Mr. Malfoy the huge success he's been described to be! The past gone, and only a great future ahead, who wouldn't love to be living in Mr. Malfoy's shoes? His…"

I don't! Hell, I would love to get out of this mess anytime! He thought bitterly as he threw the magazine away onto the e table in front of him. A huge success, huh?

No chance of escaping his life, though. Sighing, Draco got up, ready to waste one more day idling about, pretending to work his success.

He didn't know he was about to be taken from his world, for a little dip into something else. Nor did he know that an old man was watching him with an amused look in his eyes.

………

Hermione felt sleep leave her, leaving her drowsy. Her eyes roamed the room, which was full of gentle morning light. Light? That had to mean the sun had risen!

Which makes me doubt the known intelligence of Miss Granger, I man _really_!

_Oh no! _She thought as she scrambled out of her bed, trying to untangle herself from the sheets. She seemed to have overslept fifteen minutes, and now only had less than an hour to finish her little interview before heading for work.

Showering for less than five minutes, dressing in haste, not even getting a proper look at herself in the mirror, all the while making her bed and breakfast, Hermione apparated out of her apartment in fifteen minutes.

The silent, neat empty apartment stayed silent for only a couple of seconds after the departure of its owner, as she reappeared again, cursing softly.

She grabbed some files that were lying on her desk, and then darted to her room, grabbing a small golden ring off her nightstand. As she put the delicate ring on, Hermione looked down at her hand, frowning. _I have got to stop forgetting it! _

She would've kept it on all of the time, since it was only natural to keep your engagement ring on. But it was uncomfortably small, and she never had the heart of telling Ron that, and it felt somehow wrong to use magic to widen your engagement band.

Yes, even if she was practical Hermione Granger.

Then giving the place a last look, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything else, Hermione disappeared out of sight again.

She made her way down one of the Ministry's crowded corridors, going through the things that she had to do during the day…_the interview… drop these files off at Level Two …work of course…probably do some more errands after work for Jinkins…shop for some grocery…pick up the dress robes for tonight's dinner…and then there _was_ tonight's dinner…_

At the thought of the dinner that night, Hermione looked down at the small band on her finger, a nervous flutter of her heart increasing her anxiousness. They were telling everyone tonight, that they've gotten engaged.

Ron had proposed two weeks ago, where of course she had said yes. He had said that he wanted to keep it a surprise till the night he got his promotion. He had said that they would all have dinner out, her, him, her family and his and of course Harry on the pretence of celebrating his already expected promotion, and then they would break it to them.

She had insisted on wearing the ring, even though Ron said that it would be risky, just to show him that she loved it. And she did. She didn't want any great diamond. And it had turned out that she barely had seen anyone (and that meant almost literally anyone) throughout the last two weeks, since work had been a huge hassle and this upcoming heave in her career took a lot of time.

Hermione smiled gently, as she made her way down another corridor. She felt another nervous jolt go through her at the thought of her interview right now. Maybe there would be another surprise to celebrate at dinner. Or at least she hoped fervently there would.

Maybe today was her day… Maybe today her hard work was finally going to be paid off. She was so intent on getting this position that she couldn't help but feeling sick form nervousness. She didn't like to think like that, in fear of seeming smug, but Hermione knew that she was the best-qualified applicant yet. Hermione had made it clear that she was willing to work hard from the beginning, and she was one step away from being in charge of her own little teams where she could carry out projects like researching the rights of house-elves, and all the other issues that she felt obliged to look into since she had grown to realize what was wrong and right…

She'd be able to make a move to all the things she had believed in all her life if she got the promotion she had been dreaming of ever since she had started at the Ministry. It was true that things had been a little harder than she expected, but hopefully everything would pay off… And today might just be that long awaited day …

When she finally reached he door of where she was told her interview would be held, Hermione took a deep breath, and then knocked on the door gently.

"Come in."

Hermione opened the door slowly, slipping inside. She smiled at the man who sat behind the desk. "Good Morning, sir."

"Ah, Miss Granger I believe?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow. Hermione nodded. He stood up taking her hand, "Mark Babaar." Then he ushered her into a seat, while he seated himself back into his chair behind the desk. "It's good to meet you in person, Miss Granger. You had an impressive C.V."

Hermione smiled, her eyes shining. She felt her hear skipping; she was on the edge wanting to feel the elation of victory. It reminded her of the times in Hogwarts when she had always savored that feeling after getting an answer right, or when a teacher complimented her…

"Well, Miss Granger, I believe you came here for the job interview?"

"Yes, I hope I'm not late or anything," she said hastily, while greatly doubting it. She was told that this was the first day for the job interviews, and she was pretty sure she had made it first.

She saw the old man smile slightly, not the happy sort of smile but a sad one. "Well, Miss Granger that's just it…"

Hermione felt her heart drop a little. _What? _No she must've understood him wrong. She was told the interview was today. And it was today…it _had_ to be today. She hadn't worked her head off for four years, all the while finishing her Hogwarts education with extra classes to miss this once in a life opportunity! "I'm sorry, sir?"

"It really saddens me to say this, and we are the ones with the greater loss in this situations, considering your qualifications and all, but well you're just a little too late." He looked at her gently, but Hermione was unaware of him, she only clung to the words he said, hoping that she was understanding him wrong.

"But I-well-you see-I…" She looked down at her hands, her voice choked. _But they had told her it was today…she'd been the first to be interviewed…that they were impressed with what she had to offer…_

"I understand how you feel, Miss Granger," the man pressed more gently.

"They told me the interview was today. How could I be too late? It's just not possible! I mean look there's a paper here…" and then she started searching for something in the stack of papers in her hand, her hands shaking. But her mind was still trying to understand what the man was saying.

"It's a small mistake which had some bigger consequences. It's quite all right, Miss Granger, everyone makes such mistakes. You see, they had made the interviews two days ago, and it seems you have missed out on the memo we sent. I was quite surprised that you did not come on Thursday, since we were hoping you would be here. I'm sure they sent that memo around…"

No, no they didn't.

She didn't make a mistake; she had done what she had been told to do. They said the interviews were held today around nine. She had checked over and over, al through the last week, and no one had told her there was a change of schedule. And she had come earlier with hope that she would finish first, with some advantage. So how could this be happening?

"You're abilities are anything but limited, Miss Granger, you're quite capable. It's not as if this is the only thing you can go for. There are many…"

But Hermione had tuned him out, her mind running furiously. _But this is what I _want _to do. This is what I had wanted to do since I saw the first house-elf, since I first heard of Voldemort and the Muggle-haters, since I had first been called Mudblood… this IS it…nothing else. _

She felt her eyes sting, and she blinked trying to clear them, not wanting to show the man her tears. She cleared her throat. _Four years_ gone preparing, making sure she had the perfect profile, and now this? "Um, thank you, sir. I-I-" her voice broke and Hermione gave a watery smile to the man, turning to flee the room.

She stepped out of the office, the buzzing corridor crashing into her as she did. She stood leaning at the wall by the office door for a few seconds, catching her breath. As she made a move to go, Hermione heard something that caught her attention.

"-Can't believe I had to come early to get this interview! I mean they expect you to drop everything and come if they decided to change their minds! My cousin works in this department, and he sent me an effing howler telling me that he got me an interview this morning, that I should consider myself lucky, and I'm well connected mind you!" a young man's voice complained.

"Well, you know what they have t do for jobs like these…I mean it's the only subtle ways to avoid any old trouble from the muggleborns," another voice, of another man said.

_Muggleborns? _Hermione felt like someone had just put her under a freezing charm, as she swallowed the words of the two men who were passing her.

"So what, they're trying to spare the Mudbloods' feelings?" the first voice scoffed. "You know it's quite obvious that they'll get it sooner or later. I mean when were these kind of positions handed to them? Even If they _are _filth, they still have some brains to figure it out. I mean no one held a head department that didn't have magical blood running in his veins! I mean this is the ministry of _magic_! Muddies don't have any magic in them… Handing powerful positions to Mudbloods would be like giving them the power to rule!"

"Would you lower your voice your-" the second man hissed turning his head to both sides checking for some body listening around, as the other's voice had gotten higher.

"Yeah, yeah, alright, hey what's that brother of yours doing these days? I thought I'd ask him a favor, you see I have a problem at Gringott's, damned goblins! I went there last…"

Hermione lost his words, as the meaning of what he had said just sank in

…_Mudbloods…_

It was still there, after the war, the blood, the sacrifices…_Mudblood…_and something kept whispering in the air around Hermione that it would _never _be gone, she would die and the generation after and after and it would all stay…

She felt like she was too shocked to make any movement. She felt as if she was standing on a cliff covered with snow, and any move, breath, thought that she made would send her crashing down into dark oblivion.

"Do you need anything more from Mr. Babaar, dear?"

Hermione jerked her head to the old lady, who was smiling at her kindly. She studied the women's expression feeling sick all of the sudden. That wasn't kindness…that was sympathy, even pity…they all knew, it was some kind of policy that wasn't officially declared. Muggleborns were deprived of any chances to hold an office with any "power" to it, as the man had described…except as the other had explained, it had to be done in an undercover way as not to leave any place or right for people like _her_ to make any objection…

She turned away, not answering the old lady, walking quickly, her fast steps echoing in her head as if she was walking alone in the crowded corridor. Hermione found herself running after some time, making her way blindly through the crowds. She found her self in front of the ladies toilets. Pushing the door, Hermione tumbled into the room, falling off her feet.

Sprawled on the bathroom floor, Hermione buried her head into hands, her tears falling with no restraint.

She felt so humiliated…so degraded…as if that horrible man who had been so nice now seemed to have mocked her with every gentle smile.

_I'm just a muggle borne to them all, not worth the while not…a loss. A smart witch with no magic blood in my veins that leaves me useless to be anything important. _She felt rage mingle with her already mixed emotions. This was why she wanted that job; this is what had to be fixed! But there was nothing she could do if the remedy was the source of the sickness itself, could she?

Hearing the door open and some voices mad Hermione realize that she wasn't at home, free to lay down wherever she wanted, bawling her head off like a pathetic child who was told he couldn't go to the zoo. Raising her hand to wipe away her tears, Hermione gathered her scattered papers and stood up, brushing off her robes. She stood in front of one of the mirrors, looking at her reflection.

A young woman with a mess of hair that was hung in a bun, and puffy red eyes, a red nose, and disheveled robes stared back at her. This was _not _where she was supposed to be at the age of 21…this wasn't how she was supposed to look. As she looked at herself, the feelings she had fought off just minutes ago flooded her again, making her eyes sting with new tears.

But as she looked down at her hands, which were clutching the sink's sides, she caught the sight of the golden ring on her right hand. Ron's grinning face rushed back to her. She felt a frown tug at her lips, _tonight_. If only she could have some excuse not to go. All she wanted to do at the moment was go home, hug Crookshanks, make herself a warm cup of hot chocolate or coffee and lay in bed with some big thick book.

Which made her frown deepen, as this was clearly not the right attitude that an engaged young women in love was supposed to have about revealing her engagement. But it wasn't like she was having any doubts about Ron, no that wasn't it, definitely not. But she felt so devastated at the moment, so down.

Hermione picked up her files, checking her watch and swearing furiously (a habit that she had gotten from Ronald Weasley, no doubt), and she made her way out of the bathroom, hoping that she could make it in five minutes. Rushing the corridors, a habit she had gotten adapted to(and I am seriously bored of mentioning _crowded corridors), _Hermione took the stairs, knowing the gully would be too crowded. When she found the Department of Magical Law, she slowed down, allowing herself some deep breaths. Just as she stopped to catch her breath she felt someone bump into her.

"Well, excuse you!"She glared at the back of the man's light blond head. _Stupid pureblood stuck-up probably, _she thought bitterly,_ not bothering to care who he bumps into as long as he's fine!_

After catching her breath, Hermione started down the throngs of people again. As she walked on, she couldn't help but notice that the man she had just bumped into hit a small old man unintentionally, but he went on, down the corridor, not noticing the old man who was struggling to gather himself.

"Need help, sir?"

The old man looked up at her, his gaze comfortingly warm. "Oh, well, from such a pretty young lady, I wouldn't dream of saying no!"

Hermione bent down to help the man gather his things. When she had helped him up he smiled at her thanking her, and he stared at her for a second, surveying her red lidded eyes. "Bad day?"

""You can say that, yes," Hermione answered as they started walking down the corridor.

"It is expected to have bad days from time to time, dear. I just hope it's not something that's of big importance to you."

Hermione smiled wryly, feeling tears threatening to break again.

"Oh, dear I didn't mean to…" the old man said gently, as they stopped at the end of the corridor, in front of the Head of the Magical Law Office.

Hermione turned her face, wanting to hide her tears as she attempted to brush them away. As she was doing so, she couldn't help but get a glimpse of two figures sitting together, one pouring a drink the other sitting comfortably in a leather armchair. She was shocked to recognize the features of those two.

So it was true that Draco Malfoy had made Head of Department?

Hermione felt another surge of anger and hatred surge through her. A murderous Death Eater got this? And all she gets was some reason to cry?

"Are you alright, miss?"

Surveying the two talking figures, watching Narcissa Malfoy talk to her son, Hermione felt an odd twist of anger. "I just wish I could get out of this lousy world," she whispered to herself, not knowing that the man was watching her intently.

She dropped the file off at the secretary's desk. Nodding to the old man, who was standing in the busy place, a meaningful smile on his old face, she left.

Not knowing what was waiting her or a certain young man hat day.

"Be careful what you wish for," the old man whispered, chuckling softly, his eyes plastered on the office door in front of him, his eyes sparkling.


End file.
